Avenging Devil Part 1: Satan’s Devils MC - San Diego Chapter #3 Page 3

  Before he answers, Grumbler casts a look over his shoulder as though to check for himself. “She’s in good shape. But,” he taps his forehead, “I’m scared she worries too much. She says she’s being realistic, while I’d prefer her to just relax.”

  Mary recently turned forty-eight and is six months pregnant. If the medics are to be believed, that’s pushing it to deliver a healthy baby. It hadn’t been planned, of course, and had been a surprise to them both. It still amuses me how folks their age can be caught out by, of all things, an out-of-date condom.

  I think Grumbler had been in a state of shock when he originally found out, but he and Mary had been pragmatic, continuing with full knowledge of all the risks that came with a late pregnancy. Now he’s fully onboard with the idea, there’s nothing more he wants than his kid to be alright, and his wife to come through safely. Unfortunately, there are risks that can’t be ignored or discounted.

  “What’s the doctor say? She happy with how it’s going?” All of us are following the situation carefully, prepared to give the couple all the support they need.

  “Doc’s keeping a close eye on her. Mary’s got another checkup on Monday. As you know, she goes regularly. But so far, so good, Brother. So far, so fuckin’ good.” Another quick glance behind at his wife as if to make sure he’s still telling the truth, then there’s an abrupt change of subject. “You get that beast tamed then?”

  We shoot the shit for a few moments about the bike I’ve spent the evening fixing up, then, one of Grumbler’s frequent checks over his shoulder has him narrowing his eyes.

  “Mary’s tired. I don’t want her to overdo it. I’m going to get her home.”

  “You do that.” I grin. “Take care of them both, Brother.”

  With a hefty back slap, he’s gone.

  Grumbler, Mary, and Alicia aren’t the only ones leaving. As though a signal has been given that it’s the end of the evening—for anyone other than members, that is—Dart, the VP, and Lost, the prez, along with their women, Alex and Patsy have followed fast on the tails of Grumbler and Mary. Now that the clubhouse is empty of old ladies and civilians, the club girls and some of the hangarounds who’d stayed in the background while the band had been playing, take their place in the limelight.

  Deuce, patched in a year before me, sidles up to Cindy, clearly ready to commandeer her for an hour or so. Tits and Pearl make their way toward Salem and Pennywise, who each pull a half-naked girl onto their laps. My lips curve at the way they manage to carry on their conversation without seemingly pausing for breath.

  Eva, the oldest, makes her way across the room. She’s heading my way.

  When I first came to the clubhouse, I admit it was with a sense of outrage that I found club girls in residence. Women, whose only purpose in life is to make themselves available for any man to use them. In the beginning, I wondered whether I should report the club for keeping sex slaves, but it soon became clear that they were here by choice. While I still can’t fathom why any woman would choose this life, I’ve spoken enough to them to know they rate it better than working on a checkout or being a street walker.

  During my time, I’ve watched them. Far from believing they’re not worth much else than earning their keep on their backs, the girls here take pride in the services they provide, going so far as to chase hopeful hangarounds off. It makes me chuckle at times when I think how possessive they are about their bikers.

  Then there are others—hangarounds, we call them—girls from town coming to club parties looking for a good time. Several of them are here at the moment, often coming when the band is playing, a free chance to hear live music. I watch as a gaggle of giggling girls gather around Dusty. Yeah, the good-looking fucker’s going to get lucky tonight. Idly, I wonder which one he’ll choose. Bones, sniffing and wiping his nose, approaches optimistically.

  Uh oh. One is pulling free of the throng and coming straight for me. Narrowing my eyes, I brace.

  “Get lost, Susie,” Eva snaps, her arrival coinciding with the hangaround’s. She backs up her words by placing her hand on my arm in a gesture of ownership.

  Susie bites her lip and looks up at me pleadingly, but I give a violent shake of my head. I’ve been there, done that, and had immediately regretted it. Hell, I didn’t even remember it, just woke up with a sore and obviously well-used cock and her lying next to me looking like the cat that had gotten the cream.

  If it had been that good, wouldn’t I have remembered?

  While I didn’t want an encore, she had, and for some reason believed she deserved it. But anything she thought I owed after that night was all in her head. In fact, I think it was me who had been wronged and taken advantage of, though I have nothing and no way to prove it.

  Yet I was the man, the one assumed to be the aggressor. Despite not believing it was my fault, I’d let her down gently. Did that put her off wanting a repeat performance? Like fuck.

  “Susie,” Eva growls. She literally snarls at her. I choke back my laugh, and turn my head to the bar, vaguely conscious that Susie’s heeded the warning as the scent of her overpowering perfume recedes. While remorseful for my part, I have no qualms sending her off. She’ll soon be warming the bed of someone else with an eye to wearing their patch.

  Before I became a Devil, I was a Marine, and sure, I got more than my share of casual fucks. I’m no prude, but there’s something distasteful in going with a girl who’s just been with one of my brothers, and after me, will probably move on to someone else immediately without waiting another sunrise and sunset to pass.

  That night with Susie? I’d been in one of my despondent moods—thankfully now occurring less frequently—and she’d caught me when I was down low, and simultaneously high on a bottle of Jack. I suppose I must have grabbed at the fuck to bring me out of my funk. I hadn’t a clue what I’d been doing or thinking until I woke up with her in my bed. A bed I soon kicked her out of.

  As a prospect, I was forbidden to touch the whores, then as a member, I could take my fill. But I didn’t—with the one notable exception. That’s a mistake for which I’m still paying. For some reason, Susie keeps trying to get her hooks into me. My drunk self must have been quite impressive.

  I’m no saint, I’ve hooked up occasionally in town, but casual isn’t what I’m looking for. Sometimes, though, nature drives a man to take what’s on offer, but I’m not tempted by the club whores. Eva and the club girls know the score.

  At the end of the day though, they see me as one of theirs, and don’t want anyone poaching. That’s why Eva had rescued me. The thought makes me smile. I could have spoken for myself and told her to get lost, but why should I when I had Eva to do it for me?

  “How are you doing, Niran?” The lightening of her tone confirms Susie’s disappeared.

  “Good. You?” I respond, as Eva pulls up a stool and sits down.

  “I’m okay.” The wipe of her hand down her face belies her certainty. I raise an eyebrow to encourage her. Seeing I’ve seen through her act, she drops the fake lightheartedness and grimaces. “Lost a kid today. Cancer.” She grimaces. “We knew it was coming, but it’s still hard, you know?”

  Eva’s the exception within the ranks of the club girls. While one of their number, she’s also a mom who amicably shares parenting with her ex, as well as being a nurse, and a fucking good one at that. But when her ex has her son and she’s not at the hospital, she’s at the club, working on her back. She’s a conundrum I can’t quite work out. Why does she do it? Fuck knows.

  Ignoring the services she performs for the club, I concentrate on her professional occupation instead. “That sounds a hard call, expected or not.”

  Her mouth twists. “He wasn’t the first, and sadly won’t be the last. But hell, seeing that waste of life, Niran, he was only thirteen.”

  Placing my hand over hers, I give it a squeeze. I know she won’t misinterpret my touch. She knows the score. I’m never going to involve myself with the club girls, but hell, I don’t mind playing t
he role of friend when they need it.

  “Grumbler give a good account of himself tonight?”

  I allow her the change of subject, knowing I’d probably want to do so myself. “By all accounts, yeah.”

  “I’m sorry I missed it.” She sounds genuine, but then I expect she would, considering what she had been doing. Watching a kid taking his last breath must be soul destroying, whether you get paid for it or not.

  She takes an opened bottle of beer from Connor and brings it to her mouth. Feeling sorry for her, I wonder whether I could make an exception and take her back to my room to help her forget her troubles for a while. I’m almost tempted, Eva’s a beautiful woman, but then I remember that after leaving my bed, she’d go with the next brother who asks.

  If I’m going to have a woman, I want her to be mine, and mine only. Not that I’m looking for permanent, but for however long the relationship lasts, I’d be faithful, and would expect her to be likewise. If I suggested that, Eva would laugh in my face, and remind me she’d once tried that and didn’t care for it.

  “Hey, Niran!” As I turn to greet the newcomer, Eva slides off the stool and taking her drink, makes herself scarce.

  “Kink, my man.” We exchange back slaps, then I look around and finally down at his feet. “No pets tonight?” The brother often has at least one naked woman in tow.

  “Even a Dominant sex god needs a break sometimes.” He winks. “Need to recharge the batteries.”

  “Or no one wanted to play,” I tease him.

  Placing his hand over his heart, he shakes his head. “You wound me, Brother. Fuckin’ wound me.”

  Signalling to Connor I’d like another drink, I crease my brow. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what do the girls get out of what you do, Kink?” For the life of me, I don’t understand how they allow Kink to humiliate them. What’s more, he seems to have no shortage of volunteers.

  As the prospect passes two beers across, Kink takes the stool Eva had just vacated. Casting a look at me, I presume whether to check I’m serious and not yanking his chain, he takes a breath and starts to explain. “I’m Dominant as fuck, Brother, which means I give the bitches what they need.”

  Scoffing, I respond, “And they have a need to go crawling around after you?”

  He shrugs. “Know anything about BDSM, Niran?” When I shake my head no, he continues, “Everything in our world is based on communication which means being honest with yourself, being able to understand what you need rather than what you want and being able to ask for it. That goes whether you’re submissive or Dominant.”

  I shake my head in confusion. “But you’re the Dom, isn’t what you dole out up to you?”

  “Nah, Brother. I’m Dominant, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.” He gives another wink. “Well, not all the time. I get off on pleasing the submissive who’s servicing me. By giving her what she needs, I can take her out of her head for a while, and by doing that, I get out of mine. Subspace and headspace aren’t just terms, the states exist.”

  I don’t think he’s answered my question, or not in a way I can understand. “You humiliate those girls when you bring them here.”

  “Ever considered humiliation is just what they need?” His eyebrow rises quizzically. “Subs find a Dom who suits them.” When I clearly am not on the same page, he continues to enlighten me. “Remember the girl last week?”

  “The one with the big boobs, short bob, and curvy ass?”

  He snorts. “You noticed, huh? Yeah, her. Well, by day, she’s a fuckin’ bank manager.” My eyebrows rise. And there I’d been thinking she was a nympho just one step away from a street corner. Kink gives a sharp nod as if he can see into my mind. “Makes all these decisions that affect people’s lives. A loan approved here, one denied there. Has to listen to sob stories or grand ideas all the time and deals with the fallout when the customers don’t think she’s got it right. She finds it hard to turn off from her day job. Takes her work home with her every night, if not physically, then mentally. Her work plays on her mind. Man needs money to pay off his debts? She might judge it would just land him in more. He rants and raves as he sees no other way out of it—brings up his starving kids, his dying wife, the whole damn lot. Her first duty is protecting the bank’s money, but in doing so, she makes judgement calls which affect someone’s life. Sometimes it’s hard to live with such thoughts going around your mind.”

  He’s caught my interest. I wiggle my hand to show him I want to hear more.

  “In real life, she’s so far from submissive it’s a fuckin’ joke, but after work, she can only relax by giving up control, entering a space where for a time she makes no decisions, but more than that, is taken to a place where she can totally clear her head. Might be temporary, but when she comes down, she’s better able to compartmentalise than she was before.” He checks to make sure I’m following him. “Some subs find their release with Shibari—that’s being tied up in ropes, unable to move and forced to submit to their Dominant.”

  “Sounds like abuse,” I mumble, taking another sip of my beer.

  “Abuse? You’re so fuckin’ wrong.” He pauses and brushes back his long hair with his hand. “But also, right. Done by the wrong Dom, it can be. That’s why clubs exist. It’s a safe place, and everything’s consensual. Good clubs that is. Some attract assholes. But in mine, everything’s negotiated and agreed up front. The girl, or man—gender doesn’t come into it—agrees with the Dom before anything takes place exactly what will happen and give their consent. The Dom will know the sub’s hard limits, what to avoid, soft limits where he might push her, and of course, what she really enjoys.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work just to get your rocks off.” Of course, when I get down and dirty, I check the woman is into it, but prefer to work on the fly. If something feels good, and it gets the response I want, I’ll run with that.

  Kink chuckles. “Work? Nah. While everything’s negotiated up front, there still remains leeway. Think about it as acting out fantasies, but knowing you’ll only go so far as both partners want.”

  I grimace. “Still don’t understand how some women like humiliation.”

  “Not just women, it works for some men.” He stares at his beer bottle. “Some people need the adrenaline rush from extreme sports, others wouldn’t sky dive if you paid them too. Kinks vary, Niran. Think for a moment about what I do. Can you imagine how much trust a sub must put in their Dom to crawl naked in a room of bikers looking on? Knowing their Dom will protect them? Knowing men can look, but not touch?”

  “But what does she get out of it?”

  “The idea she’s desirable, that I want to show her off. That she doesn’t have to think about anything, and I’ll take care of her.”

  I snort. “Then you take her back to your room and fuck? Seems like you do a lot to get a twisted kink satisfied, Brother. Me? I’d go straight to the good stuff.”

  “And again, you’re wrong. Sometimes sex isn’t involved. My kink, as you term it, is the heady feeling I get from knowing how much trust is placed in me. I would never hurt a sub, nor push her further than her set boundaries.”

  “And here I was, thinking you were just showing off.” I chuckle.

  “The club’s a great place to bring my subs,” he says, seriously. “None of you fuckers would touch my property, but there’s an edge, as the sub doesn’t one hundred percent know that. She has to trust me that I won’t allow anyone close. The exhilaration she feels is equal to that adrenaline rush I was just talking about. That glassy expression in my subs’ eyes you must have seen? That’s when they’ve let all their doubts and everyday worries go, and have placed their trust in me, their Dom, completely.”

  To be honest, I’d often thought they were stoned.

  I still can’t comprehend fully, but he’s opened my eyes. “So, it’s a kind of therapy?”

  “Kind of. Back to the case of the bank manager. She goes home, is able to switch off and get a good night’s sleep. The next day, she�
�s back at work making decisions logically, instead of her emotions having kept her awake.”

  “So, your expertise is humiliation?”

  He snorts. “Some Doms prefer one kind of shit over another. Some aren’t programmed to do what I do, but I won’t say that’s my only forte.” He turns and stares at me. “Being a Dom is a heavy responsibility. It’s not just sex. If I wanted that, I’d go with a club girl and get my balls emptied in record time. Negotiating, learning what a girl really needs, then carrying it out, all takes time. It’s not a quick release, Brother, and that’s if I even get there.” After a moment, he nods, seeing I’m taking it in. “You’ve got a Dominant streak in you, Niran. If you’re interested, we can speak more.”

  Having just taken a large swig of my beer, I choke. When I’ve recovered with the aid of a hefty back slap, I look him in the face. “Seems like too much darn trouble to me.”

  He laughs. Sliding off the stool, he rests a hand briefly on my shoulder. “Offer’s open anytime, Brother.”

  Chapter Four

  Saffie

  Four months ago

  When Duke left my hospital room, I was terrified. How the hell can I escape when he’s given me just one day? In his mind, the time limit was probably generous, and if I refuse to leave, I’ve no doubt he’ll carry out his threat to abduct me. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to hire a private ambulance and forge papers to say I was being transferred. Nothing ever gets in Duke’s way.

  Twenty-four hours. That’s all he’s given me.

  What the hell can I do? I’m hooked up to machines, a catheter in place. Even if I wanted to move, it’s too painful to do much more than breathe.

  I’m trapped. Just as I’ve been for the last five years and will continue to be until Duke has enough of me.

  The same nurse who was in earlier comes in again and checks the monitors and the fluids dripping into me. Letting her get on with her job, I focus on worrying about myself.